


Burning Barns

by local_enginerd



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Pharmercy (Overwatch)
Genre: F/F, Pharmercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_enginerd/pseuds/local_enginerd
Summary: "Fareeha plays hockey and Angela is a–NO WAIT. Angela plays ice hockey and Fareeha is a tall, graceful figure skater and they practice at the same ice rink/are in town for different competitions or something go" - one of Rady's 503048938 AUs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radycat/gifts).



Sunlight quietly filters in through the arching glass ceiling; despite the time difference, she is the first person onto the rink. Fareeha completes another lap, hoping to warm up before her coach arrives. It’s been long since she’s shed her jacket and gloves, the cool air now biting through the mesh of her costume.

But soon, a turn sweeps into a jump, then a spin, then before she knows it, Fareeha begins to flow through her program. The wind whips around her and the beads in her hair burn against her cheeks. Her skates glide over the rink, the gentle scraping of the ice echoing off throughout the building as Fareeha launches into a spiral, arms outstretched.

Brows furrowed, she practices the elements in sequence, taking flight like a bird, unaware that she has spectators.

“Gonna get off the ice anytime soon, figure skater?”

She’s more than familiar with the way the last two words are uttered, but calmly Fareeha comes to a halt at the gate. Her gaze falls over the crowd that’s gathered against the boards; a quick glance at their equipment and jerseys confirms that the women are, in fact, part of a hockey team.

“Can I help you?” she clears her throat, but the answer is quite clear. Fareeha does not mistake the way the players shift from skate to skate or how they gaze at the open rink; they want to get onto the ice as much as she does.

“We have a playoff game tomorrow night,” a pink-haired woman replies brusquely. As Fareeha turns to face her, she notes the patch on the woman’s uniform - an ‘A’; the alternate captain. “Get off the ice, we need to practice.”

Fareeha frowns as she reaches behind the boards for her jacket. “And I’ve got a qualifying competition for the Grand Prix.”

She surveys the players again. There are just enough of them for a team scrimmage; like her, they will need the full rink. While Fareeha did make it to the ice first, she is nothing if not altruistic and recognizes the importance of their game.

“I need another hour on the ice,” Fareeha begins. Before her thought is even finished, she can see that half the team is glaring daggers at her. Like most hockey players, it seems, they don’t respect her sport enough to understand. She’ll have to earn it the only way she can.

“But...I’ll let you have the ice now and come back later,” a grin creeps onto the Egyptian’s face. “If one of you play me one on one and beat me.”

Without skipping a beat, the players (the ones that are awake, at least) accept the ultimatum. Whether it was out of eagerness to get on the ice or the confidence that they could beat a figure skater, the hockey team’s hubris almost makes Fareeha roll her eyes. Still, Fareeha doesn’t seem fazed and finishes anyway. “I’d like to pick my opponent.”

The women still seem unperturbed by Fareeha’s ease and after a brief huddle, one of their forwards, a short energetic brunette, declares boldly: “You’re on!”

_Hockey players...how predictable._

“Quiet, Lena,” the pink-haired woman says. In the chilly air, she lets out a huff that condenses into steam. Another quick glance at her uniform identifies her as Zaryanova. “So who’s it gonna be?”

“Ah, relax already, Aleks!” Lena quips back but she turns to Fareeha, at full attention. Her voice echoes through the rink; it is still far too early in the morning and some of the other players wince at the commotion.

As a pit settles at the bottom of her stomach, Fareeha scans the crowd, sizing up the players. Her gaze settles on a petite blond woman, whom she has at least a full head on. One of her hands is glued to an impossibly large thermos of coffee, the other wrapped around the hockey stick she’s using to prop herself up. Beneath her bangs, her eyes have been half-lidded the entire time.

_Someone’s clearly not a morning person._

“I want to play her,” Fareeha finally announces, eyes still trained on Angela. The blonde’s gaze snaps up to meet hers with such a cold ferocity that the ice beneath their skates suddenly feels warm.

Well, shit.

* * *

 Everyone in town always said that she’d learned to skate before she could walk. It made sense, after all.

Growing up, a Fareeha off the ice had all the grace of a newborn giraffe; she was a gangly kid whose knees always sported a menagerie of band-aids - one for every scrape she got tripping on _level ground_ , no less.

And boy, were there a lot of those band-aids.

But on the ice, Fareeha was in control. Like second nature, she flew across rinks, be it for a race or a game of hockey. None of the other kids could skate as fast as her, turn as quickly as her, or score as hard as her. Fareeha practically lived in her skates, something her father took great pride in.

Whenever she had hockey games (which was quite often), her father would be in the first row, right up against the ice. He’d record every second of it to send to her mother later. Every time Fareeha turned to catch his eye across the rink, he’d flash a thumbs-up and grin, moustache quirking upwards. The rink always felt a lot smaller with him around.

He was also the one who took her to watch her first figure skating competition; Fareeha remembered sitting on her _si taa_ ’s shoulders and gawking at the skaters who seemed to hang in the air, defying all known laws of physics.

The next day, she’d hung up her hockey skates and pulled on a pair of figure skating ones - only to fall face-first into the ice.

 _Ice picks. Right_.

* * *

 It’d been quite a few years since then.

As Fareeha steps off the ice to swap out her skates and borrow a stick, a chorus of “Go get ‘em, Ange” and the like erupts from the team. Mostly from Lena.

“You got this, Cap!” Aleks booms, giving Angela a good-natured clap on the back.

_Wait a second…‘cap’? Did you just challenge the captain of the team to a 1v1? Good job, Amari._

Fareeha’s fears are confirmed when Angela unsticks her cheek from the hockey stick she’d been leaning on. The patch on her uniform, a large gold ‘C’, certainly marks her as the team’s fearless leader.

The blonde shrugs and flashes a grin at Fareeha, as if she could hear every thought.

* * *

 The second the puck hits the ice, a dull _clack_ echoes through the rink. In the next, Angela has stolen it right out from under her.

The blonde explodes down the ice with a laugh, Fareeha trailing close behind.

Almost immediately, Fareeha realizes that she has made a mistake - which isn’t something that her pride lets her easily admit.

What Angela lacks in size, she certainly makes up for in sheer speed and she’s halfway through the end zone before Fareeha’s longer strides allow her to catch up.

 _Oh, come on, channel your inner Canadian and make Dad proud already_ , she thinks to herself.

Angela’s so focused on the puck that it catches her by surprise when Fareeha appears in her periphery. She blinks; there aren’t too many people who can keep up with her on the ice. Still, she’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.

As Fareeha checks Angela lightly, swiping at the blonde’s stick with her own in an attempt to steal the puck, Angela swivels backwards and gives the puck a flick. It soars into the air, a long arching curve, right over the Egyptian’s head.

All Fareeha can do is gape as Angela ducks behind her catches the puck without breaking eye contact all the while.

She snaps back to her senses and makes a beeline for the goal when she notices just how close Angela’s gotten. Fareeha digs into the ice with her skates; she’s a figure skater and the longer strokes she’s accustomed to give her far more control and power on the ice than her hockey-playing counterpart.

“Oh shit, she’s still going!” A chorus of cheers erupts from the Thunderbirds; at this point they’re rooting for both women quite equally. A good game’s a good game, right?

Fareeha leans into her crossover, trying to put herself between Angela and the puck. The gap between the two close, but they’re dangerously close to the goal.

* * *

 When their match ends, the sun’s more than risen, casting a warm glow over the ice. Both of the women are out of breath, but Angela’s just barely won.

“There’s no way you’re just a figure skater.” Angela arches an eyebrow accusingly as she pulls off a glove, extending a hand. “Not everyone can hold their own against a Thunderbird, let alone their captain.”

Fareeha mirrors her, taking her hand and shaking it. They skate off the ice together and Lena’s cheering is absolutely deafening.

“Well, I have to admit, you’ve got moves, Amari.” There’s a hint of a smile on Zarya’s lips.

Before Fareeha has a chance to reply, Lena barrels into her and Angela, engulfing them in a hug. She pokes at the blonde in jest. “Cap, I love ya, but I can’t believe you almost got your ass kicked by a figure skater.”

“And you,” she points an accusatory finger at Fareeha. “What was that, Ms. Hat Trick?”

“I may have neglected to mention that I did the littlest bit of ice hockey before going into skating.” Fareeha shrugs innocently. “Also being Canadian doesn’t hurt.”

Turning back to Angela, Fareeha smiles back, the _udjat_ twitching upwards. “Besides, there’s no way you could do half of what I do on the ice, _habibti._ ”

* * *

The buzzer sounds; it’s the end of the second period.

As Angela skates to the other end of the rink, she picks out a familiar face in the crowd. Tan skin, golden beads adorning her hair...

“I’m surprised to see you here, Fareeha!” She skates up to the boards. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your gold medal?”

“Parties are great and all, but,” Fareeha drops her gaze and flushes. “I uh, heard that hockey games were far more enjoyable in person?”

Angela plants one hand on her hip, the other using the stick to anchor her. “Is that so?”

“I just wanted to see you play,” admits the Egyptian. “For real, you know?”

For a moment, Fareeha seems to have been caught off guard by her own forwardness and Angela even more so. Already flushed from playing so long, she turns a deep crimson.

The buzzer sounds again, jolting them from the reverie.

“Well, then. Wish me luck!” She clears her throat awkwardly.

As Angela skates back into position, she winks at Fareeha. The Egyptian crosses her arms, smirking back. “Not that you’ll need it.”

* * *

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Fareeha smiles. “The Thunderbirds made it into the semis.”

Angela hadn’t expected Fareeha to stay this long after the game ended. The rest of the Thunderbirds had gone off to celebrate, but Angela had found the Egyptian waiting next to the ice.

“No party for you either?” Fareeha breaks the silence, passing the blonde a bottle of water. Angela realizes that she’d withdrawn to her own thoughts.

“Hey, weren’t you the one who said parties aren’t all that great?” Angela jests, earning her a jab in the ribs.

“But seriously, thanks for staying, Fareeha.”

Something about the way Angela says her name makes Fareeha fill with fondness. The serious look on the blonde’s face doesn’t escape her, though.

“Did you have something on your mind?"

“Teach me?” Angela blurts out. “How to figure skate, I mean. It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone with so much control on the ice. You’re amazing; I’ve been playing for years, but no one’s ever-”

She stops abruptly, realizing that she’d been rambling. Angela takes a breath, centering herself in the way she’s accustomed to before a game.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re amazing. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.” She finishes breathlessly.

“Of course I’ll teach you,” Fareeha softens her expression. “But here’s the deal.”

She pauses and Angela’s thoughts threaten to overwhelm her.

_What if this was all a huge mistake?_

Fareeha’s voice snaps her back to reality. “Grab a coffee with me sometime? I mean, it’ll probably have to be tomorrow because I’m flying out soon and…”

_Oh._

_OH._

_Earth to Angela Ziegler. You better come back down here and say something intelligent._

“I can do you one better.” Angela recovers with all the grace of a captain. She turns, pulling Fareeha closer until their noses are touching, but she doesn’t dare to lean forwards any more.

In an instant, Fareeha closes the gap, pushing aside any doubt or fear that lingered in the space between them.  
So Angela melts. Fareeha kisses just like she skates: strong and precise and _absolutely perfect_.

**Author's Note:**

> Fareeha's played hockey most of her life, before switching over to figure skating. She can still kick ass and serve pucks.


End file.
